


if only i could love you

by Unlawful_Villainy



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Assault, Author Is Gay And Affection Starved And It Shows, Benji Dunn Is Not Ok, Fluff, Gratuitous use of song lyrics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Rogue Nation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Loathing, like... kinda, no fallout spoilers, sexual assault elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 15:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlawful_Villainy/pseuds/Unlawful_Villainy
Summary: Benji has never had a problem with fieldwork, but after London, something is different. And he doesn't think it'll be easy to fix - not while he's still pining after Ethan Hunt, at least.





	if only i could love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaostheoryy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheoryy/gifts).



> Songs in this chapter: Confidence (Ocean Alley), If Only (TEEKS)
> 
> For chaostheoryy for making me cry over Benji/Ethan with "On the Edge, Meeting in the Middle"

Benji cringed away, shrinking into his chair as Lane approached and bent down, faces almost touching, intense blue eyes never leaving his. Benji looked away, feeling his hear rate speeding up and panic rising in his throat, trying to tell himself it would all be over soon, he would be fine, it would be ok, Ethan was on his way, but Lane didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stayed, staring, closer and closer, not moving, and if he didn’t move soon Benji was going to scream-

He felt a hand on his cheek, and all his self-control vanished. He started yelling and thrashing and pulling at the cords holding him to the chair, but the cold touch didn’t leave him, and as he flung his head around, he caught a glimpse of Lane’s face, still too close, but the hand on his cheek was Lane’s and wait, no, this wasn’t how it happened, Lane had never touched him-

Benji awoke drenched in sweat and terror, his legs bound in the sheets of his bed that he’d disturbed thrashing around in his sleep. The crack in his curtains told him it was still dark, and the drumming on the roof told him that last night’s storm hadn’t let up, so he fell back, resting against the pillows and breathing heavily, trying to process what had happened. A dream- no, a nightmare. That was all. It was all in his head, he told himself. It didn’t happen. Lane was in prison, and Benji was safe, and everything was ok. Even as he repeated the words to himself, first in his head and then out loud, he didn’t quite believe them.

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

Benji didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, he stayed awake, lying in bed, unable to close his eyes again for fear of seeing those piercing black eyes only inches away from his own. The next morning, when his alarm rang at 7, the dawn found Benji bleary-eyed and as tensely coiled as a spring, so on edge that he nearly kicked his clock when it went off. But he was an IMF agent, and IMF agents don’t have the option of calling in sick, so he dressed in the least wrinkled shirt and slacks he could find, and he went to work.

No one commented on the dark patches under his eyes, even Brandt - who shot him a few concerned looks - because there was work to be done. This week, Ethan was on fieldwork in Greece, and Benji was on analytics and tech back home at headquarters. Ethan was the one constant he could rely on, the one person who didn’t react when his voice croaked every few words from screaming all night in his sleep or when he drifted off for a few seconds, and he began to long for the days when Ethan was on surveillance or stakeout missions so that they could talk or sit in comfortable silence for hours. One night, when Ethan returned from a particularly difficult and successful mission, Brandt invited the team to a popular club for a party, and Benji found himself tagging along despite his near-exhaustion - if only to finally see Ethan for the first time in months. Ethan had been in deep cover, so they’d had no communication, even radios or occasional check-ins, and Benji was desperate to see the man who’d become his anchor to the real world.

As it happened, Benji didn’t drink much that night. Although he’d intended to try and smother the inevitable nightmares with alcohol, he ended up nursing a beer and staying out of the occasional conversations that happened over the course of the night. Instead - and maybe it was his low alcohol tolerance, maybe the sleep deprivation - he watched Ethan, watched him hang out at the bar, watched him flirt with anyone who came too close, frankly - Ethan had always been a terrible flirt - watched him do everything he did with confidence and complete surety in himself, and he hated him for it. Or maybe he loved him. It was hard to tell. All he knew was that he wanted that confidence, that life, that comfort in himself, that body (preferably against him). No, he definitely loved Ethan. And he hated him for it, for being so perfect in every way, for being everything Benji wasn’t. Ethan wouldn’t have been caught in London. Ethan wouldn’t have let himself be held hostage. Ethan wouldn’t have been _weak-_

Benji caught himself before he went any further. He didn’t want to have an attack in front of Ethan. Instead, he watched him.

He saw Ethan make his way onto the dance floor, and faintly, the lyrics drifted by him.

_It’s all about confidence, baby_

Well, that was accurate. Ethan on the dance floor was the same Ethan as always, sure of everything he was doing, and Benji couldn’t take his eyes off him.

_Well I should’ve said this, and I should’ve said that_

_All I that I know now, it’s about confidence baby_

Before Benji could get up the courage to join Ethan, the song ended. Benji went back to his beer, trying to subtly pretend he hadn’t just had his eyes fixed on the agent across the room. As the next song began, he went back to his daze of staring at the bottle in front of him, not wanting to see Ethan slow dancing with the closest girl on the floor, but as the lyrics again cut through his consciousness, his head jerked up.

_If only, if only I could love you_

_Love you like you want me to_

His head whipped to the floor, but Ethan wasn’t there, wasn’t dancing anymore, and as he stood to start frantically search the room, he heard the distinctive sound of glass on wood and his eyes flew to the opposite side of the table to see - Ethan.

His heart rate somehow both relaxed and sped up at the same time. Ethan was here, with him, that warm smile on his face, not with some random on the dance floor, with _him_. Trying and failing to pass off his apparent panic as just changing seats, he relaxed into his seat and took a somewhat casual sip of his beer. Across the table, Ethan did the same.

“So…” Benji began, then lost his words and trailed off. A pregnant pause stretched between them.

_Ooh, it’s killin’ me_

_It’s killin’ me bad_

_If I explain myself,_

_You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t understand_

Benji had to repress a bitter laugh at that. Yes, it was definitely killing him, and there was no way Mr Perfect Life across the table would understand. He opened his mouth to say something - he didn’t know what - when the song interrupted him again.

_And I feel like I’ve let you down, oh_

_Oh, let you down_

Benji closed his mouth again, imagining that he looked somewhat like a goldfish, but there was nothing he could say. Retreating into his default self, he lowered his gaze and shrunk in on himself, trying to make himself seem smaller.

A hand touched his, and he flinched, but looked up.

The source was Ethan, his arm lying across the table, the warm smile fading into concern as he noted Benji’s reaction. He withdrew his hand, and did that worried half-frown, half-eyebrows-raised look that unmistakably meant “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“‘m fine,” he muttered, hoping Ethan wouldn’t question him further. His wish was granted, and Ethan nodded slowly, offering a small smile, almost in understanding - though his eyes retained their sincere concern.

At the end of the night, as the bar was closing, Benji found that he couldn’t bear the thought of another night without Ethan, and invited him to his apartment to spend the night under the pretence of “It’s closer - no it’s fine - and you’re tired.” When they arrived, both of them were so tired that they collapsed into their beds - Benji had a guest room - and passed out instantly. For the first time since London, Benji felt safe, slipping instantly into sleep, comforted by the thought of Ethan only one thin wall away.

**Author's Note:**

> wooOOOAAaaahh look at that... another wip, what a shock, oh no, etc... no but seriously I'm already writing the next parts of this and i love this series so be assured... there will be more parts
> 
> i wrote this at 10:30pm please be kind
> 
> edit: i'm a dumbass lane doesn't have blue eyes lemme just fix that


End file.
